Leave Out All the Rest
by Moose Voose
Summary: What if Tom Riddle was saved after all? What if he fell in love so deeply he couldn't think straight? What if he no longer lived in shadows and regret? -Based on Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park-


**Leave Out All the Rest**

**By: Barbara Manatee –In the Flesh-**

_Everything was the same. Nothing had changed. Not a book at been touched, not a finger of dust removed. It was as if he had never left. As if nobody cared enough to move a thing. He saw everyone he had come to know as friends…happy. They had to know he was gone. They had to know he was missing._

_Suddenly, he heard the most beautiful voice in the world. Except…her tone was desperate, scared, afraid. He felt his heart breaking, just listening. "He's gone—I need help! Somebody help me find him. I-I can't find him!"_

_"Calm down," her brother said, calm. "Have some tea."_

_"No! He's gone, he could be dead. I-I don't know what to do!" She, who usually was strong when even he faltered, looked like she was about to shatter into a million pieces. "I need to find him. He's all I have."_

_"Your tea's getting cold."_

_"We have to find him!"_

Tom Riddle sat up in his own bed, gasping, chilled from his cold sweat. He looked around the darkened room. It had been just a dream. There was no dust—he had never left.

His dream disturbed him greatly. Was it true? If he were to die, at that very moment, would nobody, truly, care?

He thought of her, the love of his life, the only one he had ever truly loved. Would even she care? The dream had seemed so realistic.

Tom thought of her. She was truly the only one he _wanted _to remember him.

He first saw her, Eleanor Dexine, at Hogwarts . He had written her off in first year as plain, obnoxious, and irritating—just a Gryffindor. Then…that year in Defense Against the Dark Arts, when he hurt her, back in sixth year. She had kept such a brave face on, assuring him she'd had much worse, even applauding him for a job well done. Despite her convincing words, Tom had never felt more guilty about anything in his life.

He had insisted on bringing her all her work that she missed while she was in the Hospital Wing, tutoring her on everything she missed, keeping her company during meals. He didn't quite know what had spurred him to such rash actions—he had always thought himself above such emotions such as infatuation or love. He had often fancied himself above emotions in general. But what had at first been a pitiful attempt to stifle guilt had soon developed into an obsession. Not a harmful kind—the kind where all he could think about was when he could see her next, all he dreamed about were sweet nothings centered around her, and he lived to make her smile and love. Despite all of his failings and flaws that he had convinced himself long ago made it impossible to love him, she saw through it all and made him into…an actual person.

He remembered when he had thoughtlessly tried to open the Chamber of Secrets. Just as he was about to go inside, she was there. She was there, tears streaming down her face, and it was there that he finally caught a glimpse into her soul. He could remember it like it was yesterday.

_"Don't I matter to you?" Eleanor whispered, her beautiful green eyes shining with unshed tears._

_"Of course—more than anything," Tom automatically replied._

_"Then why are you doing this? Nothing good can be in there—it could kill you. If you hurt yourself, if you die, if you go down there, I'll never forgive you!" Eleanor shouted, her words echoing off of the tiled bathroom._

_"You don't understand—I have to know—"_

_"No, I understand," She interrupted. Not for the first time, she instigated her Gryffindor qualities. "You want to reconnect with your past, you want to feel like you're worth something by blood. The fact that I…love you isn't enough for you." It was the first time that love had ever been brought up between them. Before he could say anything, she hurried on. "I'm not worth a thing compared to Salazar Slytherin, compared to titles, money—rot. I'm only a convenience to you."_

_"How can you say that?" Tom demanded, shocked. "That's not it at all!" But it was. That was exactly what it was, he realized._

_"Because I know what it's like to be second best, Tom! My whole life, I've never been good enough. My sister was always prettier, funnier, kinder, sweeter, more talented—everyone loved her more. Then, when I come to Hogwarts, it's like everyone sees through me. I'm like glass—nobody sees anything but their own reflections. And then you came along. Perfect. Too bloody perfect for me. I thought maybe, just maybe, I got lucky, that a guy actually liked me for who I was. I thought maybe I'd found somebody who might actually put me first. But I guess I was wrong. I guess I really am second best after all since you're going down the Chamber." _

_Tom was left reeling. Eleanor, who had always been strong when he was weak, so confident and self-assured while he sagged with uncertainty, had lived with this weight of inadequacy. He hadn't been the only one who had found himself being heeled by the simple fact that another human being cared. And now that that was being taken into question… _

_Tom put everything into perspective and decided, right then and there, that nothing he could ever possibly accomplish in this life or any after would ever compare to Eleanor. "I'm not going to the Chamber," He whispered. "I never will. You come first. You always will."_

He thought of his dream. Eleanor looked like she was falling apart. He hoped with all of his heart that if, somehow, by some horrendous twist of fate, he left her side, she stayed strong. Heaven knew he'd die if she were to leave him. But Eleanor…

She usually hid her insecurity so well, barely ever letting her catch a glimpse at it. She hated to be seen as weak—more than even he. When he did see it, she refused to be comforted. Tom felt his heart being ripped a little at the thought of beautiful, perfect Eleanor, unloved and unwanted. The thought was perfectly ridiculous—beyond laughable. She was only person in the world he considered worth living.

He was astonishingly lucky she even looked in his direction.

He, however, had quite a few regrets of how he had treated her. To begin with, how he treated her before he learned to love her. His words, like poison, tearing at her self esteem, only fueling her belief of being a second best. It wasn't as if they never fought, either. Except, it was never because of anything SHE did. It was always him, and he'd be the first to admit it.

Usually it was just because of how…dark he was. He naturally knew darker spells, darker stories, darker everything. Once, she found one of his old journals. She had inquired about if his views had changed. He had been insulted and embarrassed, lashing out at her, leaving scars he was sure hadn't healed. He had left her crying as he stormed out.

He had been too ashamed to face her for a whole week before he came back to collect his things, sure she would never forgive him. He knocked on the door of their apartment as if he were a stranger. She opened the door, her hair a mess, her eyes damp, her clothes old and greasy. When she saw him, she began to cry.

_"I-I'm sorry," She whispered and flung herself into his strong arms._

_Tom gaped at the top of her head, and immediately pulled away. He couldn't bear to have her so close after being so horrible. "No…No, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one that was a monster to you."_

_"I shouldn't have invaded your privacy and doubted you…After all that you've done for me, for us…" She sniffled._

_"That's ridiculous! You have every reason in the world to doubt me!" He immediately disagreed. "I was being arrogant and stupid. You were perfectly reasonable to question me. And then…when I…" Tom felt a lump in his throat. "I'd understand if you never want to see my face again."_

_"Tom! You're ridiculous!" Then she flung herself into his arms. Except this time, he didn't pull away. He didn't pull away for a long, long time._

She was an angel, and wasting her time with the likes of him. Not that he minded—oh, no. She was welcome with him as long as she wanted to. He'd never intentionally do anything to push her away.

He remembered, grimly, when she came with him to meet his father in Little Hangleton. They had laughed in his face, mocking him and his mother, spitting on his magical heritage. To his horror, he found himself drawing his wand to cast the Killing Curse.

The only thing that had been between him and their deaths was Eleanor, of course.

_"Tom Marvolo Riddle! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" She had said, stepped in between him and his father who cowered on the floor. "Do you presume to be God? Do you think yourself so great that you know whether or not this man deserves to live?"_

_As usual, she knew exactly what to say. "That's not…he can't just…"_

_"Yes, he can. He's a living human being. He has as much right to this world as you do!" Eleanor declared. "He may be scum," She sneered, "And a right idiot for not loving you, but he does not deserve to die for merely being a coward."_

_Tom slumped, lowering his wand. He'd learned his lesson. Never again would his pride rise up and hurt them by refusing to acknowledge the truth. "I'm sorry," he whispered. _

_She stepped forward and embraced him._

_His father, no longer a sniveling worm when he realized he was no longer in danger, said, "You may not have blood on your hands tonight, boy, but you've got a murderer's heart."_

Those words had haunted him for years. Even now, at age twenty three, and married to Eleanor, he could not escape those words. _You've got a murderer's heart._

It was true. Had Eleanor not been there, he would have killed his last, living (sane) relation.

Eleanor had taken him to her own home (they couldn't very well go back to the orphanage with Tom in such a state) and he had spent the night crying in her comforting embrace.

There was so much wrong he'd done to her. She did nothing but bless him, make him a better, happier man, and he repaid her by hurting her and breaking her heart.

Once more, he thought of his dream. Of all the people to care when he was missing, only she cared.

He gazed at Eleanor as she slept. Sometimes, he wanted to erase himself from her life, erase himself from everyone's lives. He wanted to not exist, to never have left his mark on those around him. Because when he looked back on the life he'd lived, he was ashamed. Surely that was where the dream came from.

But he didn't want to erase the parts of him that Eleanor loved, the parts that comforted her and gave her strength and a purpose. He couldn't hate that which she loved; he'd stopped giving his own opinions and misconceptions thought. He and Eleanor, they were one. He'd be broken without her, was broken whenever she wasn't there.

Tom smiled. He was a part of Eleanor, all of the best parts of him. Eleanor, she didn't care about the rest. She'd never hold all of his imperfections against him.

Comforted of his own insecurities for the first time in a very long time, Tom Riddle slipped into bed and forgot all of his terrible misdeeds and mistakes.

"_I'm weak! I'm nothing!" Tom struggled against the building, hysterical sob. The world seemed to be unraveling at the seams. "I can't…I can't go on like this. If it weren't for you, I'd be a…"He swallowed. He might as well say it, shouldn't he? "A murderer! The darkest of wizards!"_

"_Tom—"_

"_Eleanor, you don't understand! My goals…my wishes, my secrets…they're not…"_

"_Tom," Eleanor gripped at his wrists. "Everyone struggles to be happy, to do what's right. You were struggling in the only way you knew how."_

_Tom shook his head. That wasn't good enough for him. "You knew, though. Why did you know? Why was I the only one ready to sell his soul?" Tom whispered._

"_Nobody taught you! You were all alone—all you had was the darkness dealt to you. I…I had examples. Family. Friends. Don't you see, Tom? You've had the most horrid life I've ever heard. You'd lived in misery poverty…all alone. You didn't have friends or family, anybody to shield you from the darkness around you. And you came out this amazing…beautiful person." Tom laughed at that._

"_Are you blind? I tried to kill my own father!" Tom said bitterly. "I'm sick."_

"_But you didn't. And somebody sick…can't feel what we feel," Eleanor whispered. She lunged forward and hugged him tightly. "No evil person could love this much."_

"_Maybe that's what makes me evil. The fact that I love you, I love you too much to let you go," Tom mused in a murmur, burying his face in her locks._

"_How can you possibly say that? You're the best part of me!" Eleanor spluttered, pulling away._

"_You must be a very, very sad human being," Tom chuckled bitterly. _

_At this she only let out a sigh as she whispered tenderly, "If only I could make you see…" _

Tom smiled absently at the memory. He never had to ask Eleanor to look past his flaws, to accept him flaws and all. He'd never had to ask to her to see the good in him, and to leave out all the rest. She'd already done it before it had even crossed his mind to be good in the first place.

He was a dark wizard with an uncontrollable temper, naturally proud, arrogant, and vengeful. There had been a time when he had despised all light, abused his "friends" emotionally and magically. A murderer at times.

But Tom loved Eleanor. He had learned to never shirk an apology, and he always tried to put her first, no matter what. At least he knew for certain that at least with him, there was no question of her being appreciated! He woke up every day and tried to be patient, understanding, _good_, because of _her_. She made him forget what a monster he had been, times past.

Tom felt a smile touch his lips as he slipped back into bed, allowing the peace of her presence to overcome him as he pulled her close. When Tom was with Eleanor, it was _he_ who could leave out all the rest.


End file.
